Immortality
by LindsayBobV
Summary: Ending of Chp 1 re-written!!! Post-“The Telling”- Vaughn point of view after learning that Sydney is missing.
1. My Hate For Telephones

Immortality  
  
By: Lindsay  
  
Rating: PG13  
  
Spoilers: The Telling  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, Alias and its characters do not belong to me. I wish Michael Vartan did, but that's another story.  
  
'Ship: S/V  
  
Summary: Post-"The Telling"- Vaughn attempts to come to terms with death and loss.  
  
A/N: I realize that I'm not an amazing writer, but I'd still like your constructive feedback! This chapter is just sort of an intro. The whole "immortality" thing comes in later. For those of you who have read this already, I've changed the ending to better fit my ideas.  
  
Chapter 1: My Hate for Telephones  
  
I hate telephones. The sound of the ringing, the sound of the voice on the other end, the information given, or lack thereof. But I have never (I repeat: NEVER) have hated a phone call quite as much as the one I received that night  
  
I was watching a King's game on my couch with Donovan and a beer- of course wishing I was with Sydney. My cell rang. Everyone disregards that I even have a home phone line anymore. I just don't get it. Hoping that I would be Syd, I looked at the ID. Of course not. I was never that lucky. It was Kendall. Oh yay.  
  
"Vaughn."  
  
"Agent Vaughn, you are to report to Agent Sydney Bristow's apartment immediately," he said blankly.  
  
"What's up?" It was kind of a weird place for everyone to meet, after all.  
  
"Agent Vaughn," he said much more sternly, "you are to report to Agent Bristow's apartment immediately." My stomach fell to my toes. Something was obviously wrong, but I felt like it was much more than a lead on Sloane. Without even turning off the TV, I muttered a 'yes sir,' grabbed my keys, and flew out the door.  
  
I've gotten my share of speeding tickets in my life, but I have never driven faster. Thank God I wasn't pulled over; I probably would've exploded. My knuckles were turning white, sweat was dripping down my wrinkled forehead, my heart was thumping in my throat. Somehow, I got to her house without killing anyone.  
  
The parking lot was teeming with vans and polices cars. The flashing lights hurt my eyes. And it was noisy. I know this, not because I could hear, but because it looked like it. I felt like I was back in Taipei, drowning, looking through the window. Every little noise muffled as if I was in a bubble. But this time I didn't see Sydney. I saw Devlin, Weiss, Jack, Marshall, Dixon, and Kendall yelling at some cop. But no Sydney.  
  
When I was younger, I had this strange fear of bugs. With age, I grew out of it, but at 5, I was scared to death of them. One time, there was an enormous spider in our bathtub. But, instead of screaming, I felt light- headed. The next thing I knew, my mother was kneeling over me, checking my pulse.  
  
This just didn't compare.  
  
Weiss saw me. His usual devious expression was gone. He didn't wave, didn't motion me out of the car. But it looked as though someone had stomped on his heart a few too many times.  
  
I really didn't want to get out of the car.  
  
Kendall's head was shimmering from the red and blue flashing lights. Even he looked somber in his strange, ass hole way.  
  
I didn't want to get out of the car. Didn't want to see.  
  
Marshall was sobbing into a handkerchief. Dixon looked as though he was going to kill someone.  
  
I always believed that the day Jack Bristow cries was the day that hell freezes over.  
  
Hell had frozen over.  
  
I didn't want to get out of the car. Didn't want to see. Didn't want to know why Jack Bristow, man of steel, was crying.  
  
But I got out of the car. I made my way into the apartments, into her door. I pushed passed the investigators. There was blood everywhere, lacing broken furniture and glass.  
  
I looked everywhere, but I couldn't find Sydney. The kitchen, the bedroom, the bathroom. No Sydney. Where the hell was Sydney? Why the hell was there blood painting the walls of her apartment? And why the hell wasn't anyone telling me what was going on? I felt the anger burning into the walls of my stomach. My teeth ground and my throat hardened. My ears began to ring, fiercely, as though an alarm was going off. I felt as though I was going to throw up my insides.  
  
"Shit!" I exploded. A couple agents looked at me as though I were nuts. "Shit! Where the hell is Weiss?"  
  
One of the agents pointed over to the door with a sad look on his face.  
  
I stormed over to him and yelled, "What the hell is going on here? Why isn't anyone telling me what the hell is going on here?"  
  
"Let's go outside, Vaughn."  
  
And that's when I broke down.  
  
[I]TBC[/I] ________ 


	2. Trying Not to Dream

Immortality  
  
By: Lindsay  
  
Rating: PG13 for swearing  
  
Spoilers: The Telling  
  
Disclaimer: Sadly, Alias and its characters do not belong to me. I wish Michael Vartan did, but that's another story.  
  
'Ship: S/V  
  
Summary: Post-"The Telling"- Vaughn point of view after learning that Sydney is missing.  
  
A/N: I realize that I'm not an amazing writer, but I'd still like your constructive feedback!  
  
Chapter 2: Trying Not to Dream  
  
I don't remember much about what he said that night. Something about Francie being a double and Will being stabbed. Something about a huge fight.  
  
Will had been taken to the hospital. The apartment had been inspected. Phone calls had been made. Pictures taken. Samples bagged.  
  
I don't remember him telling me much else.  
  
*Can you show me what a bag looks like again?*  
  
Except for that Sydney Bristow was no where to be found.  
  
*My guardian angel.*  
  
The woman who I had been in love with for the past year and a half was missing.  
  
*Did you have a fight with your wife?*  
  
The amazing, beautiful person who gave me happiness and joy was gone.  
  
*What were you doing in an antique store?*  
  
"Vaughn," Weiss said. I looked up. "We're doing everything we can. Take a few days off."  
  
I couldn't do or say anything, so I nodded. I felt like I had been beaten for hours. He drove me home, told me he'd get my car to my apartment.  
  
*You like hockey, right? The Kings?*  
  
I went to bed when I got home, but I didn't sleep. I was afraid to dream of her. Afraid that when I wake up, she'd be gone again.  
  
I kept hearing her voice. Her laugh. I couldn't get her smile out of my head. The moments we'd spent together.  
  
*They're playing the Islanders next week. We should go.*  
  
A couple hours I moved to the couch because my bed smelled like her. But the couch smelled like her too. I took a blanket and curled up on the ground, but the blanket smelled like her.  
  
*Vaughn, what's going on?*  
  
I went back to the couch, realizing there was no escaping her, grabbed a beer, and turned on the TV. I blindly watched and drank for the rest of the night.  
  
*How did you find me?*  
  
Jack Bristow, with the same, stern, emotionless voice as always, called me in the morning. He told me I could take a week off, but they were expecting me back next Wednesday.  
  
We hung up without much else said. And then I just sat there and cried for hours.  
  
After I settled down, I called up the travel agent.  
  
"Hi, this is Michael Vaughn, I set up a trip for two this weekend, but it looks as though we won't be making it," I told her, trying not to cry again.  
  
"Ok, thank you Mr. Vaughn. We are sorry you had to cancel. Would you like us to set up another date for you?" All of this shit in her fake, cheerful voice.  
  
"No. No, thank you. There won't be any more trips."  
  
We hung up and much to my dismay, I cried myself to sleep. I dreamt that she was with me at a hockey game. She was cheering right along next to me, eating her hotdog. She had mustard on her cheek. I reached over a wiped it off. She leaned over to kiss me, but I woke up. There was no hockey game. No hotdogs or mustard. No Sydney. Just an empty pillow.  
  
And I started to cry again  
  
I spent the whole week like this, in bed, except to piss and get another beer. I kept falling asleep and catching myself dreaming about her. Every time I'd open my eyes, I would start to think about where she could be and would cry some more.  
  
I tried to drown the depression with beer, but it only made it worse. I felt like shit constantly.  
  
Weiss called me a few times to check up on me. Make sure I wasn't dead. I told him I was okay, but he told me he'd pick up Donovan to get him off of my hands for a while. He said there was a search party, but that I wasn't permitted to join it until after Wednesday and a session with Dr. Barnett.  
  
And after I got out of my depression.  
  
On Wednesday, at about noon, I threw on some clothes. It didn't matter what I threw on. I didn't care. Sydney Bristow was missing so clothes didn't seem to matter anymore. I didn't bathe. I didn't shave. Why should I? I drove to the headquarters and stormed in.  
  
"Vaughn!" Kendall of course spotted me before I could yell at him. "You're late. Report to the briefing room ASAP."  
  
I followed him in. Every one of Sydney's friends was piled into that room, except for Jack. Looking as though someone had just died.  
  
"Take a seat Mr. Vaughn." They all looked at me. I knew everyone of them knew what was going on between us, and I could see the pity, the fear, and the sadness in every eye. It was depressing. I felt like I plummeted 5 more feet into the depths of my misery. I took a seat next to Weiss, who looked over at me and whispered, "You look terrible." Leave it to him to tell me the obvious. I felt terrible.  
  
Then, Kendall started to talk.  
  
"First of all, I'd like to acknowledge that everyone here has a special relationship with Agent Sydney Bristow, but I am going to keep this meeting as formal as possible. For all of you who don't know the happenings of last night, we do not know them into great detail as well. We were informed of the brawl at approximately midnight last Thursday after a neighbor called the police. A team raced to the apartment where Francine Calfo, Bristow's roommate, was found dead and Will Tippin was found severely wounded. Tippin was taken to the hospital, where he is now in critical condition, and may be moved into normal care this afternoon. Ms. Calfo was taken to special CIA labs, where she was found to not be Francine Calfo, but Allison Georgia Doren."  
  
Oh God. Shit. Apparently everyone else in the room felt the same way. Francie was the double? It all made sense, considering my mind was still sort of blurry from the lack of sleep and over consumption of alcohol.  
  
"Hey, quiet, quiet. We've done a background check on her. Apparently she had been working with Arvin Sloane and Sark to gather information from the CIA through Sydney Bristow. It is unknown at this time whether Bristow knew of this or not."  
  
Shit again. What the hell was this bastard thinking?  
  
"Tippin has not been able to give any further information at this time, but he will be questioned as soon as he is mentally and physically capable and willing to do so.  
  
"A search team has been sent out to look for Agent Bristow, but there are no leads yet. If anyone at this time has any information about where she may have gone, please speak up now."  
  
He paused. No one spoke up. Everyone was just as baffled as I was. Kendall continued.  
  
"At this time, I'd like to inform you that I am sorry for the loss of such a great asset. I'd like to personally invite you all to take part in the search; however, it is unlikely that she is even still alive."  
  
What kind of person would say that type of thing anyway?  
  
"We are doing all that we can, but it's hard to say whether Agent Bristow is alive, and if she is, even loyal to this agency."  
  
That did it, I had to speak up. "What the hell are you trying to say- that Sydney Bristow is a traitor to this country? How can you possibly say that? Do you have any proof? What the hell did she do to make you think that she would be in any way disloyal to this country?"  
  
"Sit down, Mr. Vaughn. I understand this is difficult for you, considering your- your- relationship with Miss Bristow. But we have our suspicions. And like I said, it is hard to know at this time."  
  
"What methods are you taking to find her? No matter what you say, she needs to be found. She is a member and an asset to this agency, and above all she is a damned good agent. Goddamnit, Kendall, she's a human being, who could be God knows where. Sloane could have taken her hostage and be torturing her as we speak. But, since you could care less about what happens to her, just think about how horrible this will look on your record. Losing a top agent in a domestic fight. You at least need to take top measures in order to find her."  
  
"You're out of line Mr. Vaughn. We don't need your feelings for her clouding your judgement."  
  
"No. You're out of line. Rather than wasting time telling us there's no hope in finding her, you should be personally looking for her."  
  
"Mr. Vaughn," he began slowly. "We are doing everything that we can to locate Agent Bristow. Now, please. Sit down. You have an appointment with Dr. Bennett this afternoon at 1:30. After a few days, you can join the search."  
  
"Fuck you," I muttered and walked out, slamming the door behind me.  
  
"I'm with you, Vaughn."  
  
What the hell was that? I swung around, half expecting to see her there, dressed in her normal black suit with her gorgeous brown hair tied up. But all I saw was the door of the conference room. She wasn't there. ____________  
  
TBC 


End file.
